


Rolanberries and Cotton Grass

by GuardianRiel



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Despite the summary, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I'm bad at those 'kay, M/M, Mention Of Suicide Attempt, No NPCs, No Underage Sex, Not Beta Read, Original Player Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianRiel/pseuds/GuardianRiel
Summary: The first time Azranahr touched him, he was six years old.





	1. The First Touch

**Author's Note:**

> So in discussing with some of my friends what my two characters would be like as a couple, I thought I'd write a short story about them.  
> Then my brain decided "Write their entire history!" and this came out.  
> Writing from the perspective of a blind character is far from easy.

The first time Azranahr touched him, he was six years old.  
  
He didn't like being touched, it set something off in his mind to run. Flee. Get away get away _get away._ It brought him back to the other children in his tribe tugging his tail and pulling his ears and _"runt runt runt"_ until his only escape was climbing up a tree and hiding there until his mother came to get him.  
  
She didn't come to get him as much as he'd liked. But when she did it was hands on his hips and setting him on the ground so fast it was as if he'd never been in the tree in the first place.  
  
He'd tried to hug her once, tears in his eyes and hiccuping as he clung to her leg. He'd hopped for at least a pat on his head and maybe a little scratch behind his ears.  
  
"You'll never be strong if you run every time." A hand prised his fingers from her skirts and the sound of her footsteps taking her back to the tribe rung in his ears. "Even your little sister is stronger than you."  
  
He could feel her disappointment in waves and it almost knocked him over. And no matter how often he felt it, not once did the pain dull.  
  
Touches were bad. Touches meant pain or shoves or tears. He didn't like crying much either.  
  
When he left the tribe ( _ran away,_ he reminds himself, but it's easier to just say he left) he learned touches were still bad.  
  
Ul'dah was all noise in his ears and dust between his toes, sharp things that dug into his feet and hurt. Hands that grabbed his arms and voices that yelled that he had to pay for that apple. (Was that what was in his hand? An apple? He'd never had an apple before. His brother once bragged that he'd had an apple before.) He felt anger and joy and... something else he didn't understand, and it took him years before he'd learn all the emotions he felt weren't his.  
  
He never thought he'd be thankful that he was so small. And that he'd gotten so good at running from everything that slipping away had been easy. He learned that was the only thing that was easy.  
  
The hardest part was navigating. This wasn't his tribe's den, where he knew every rock and every grain of sand under his toes. The rocks here were smooth except for the sharp bits, (glass, he thinks? Broken glass? He heard something about ale and the grown-ups drank ale from glasses sometimes didn't they?) And the paths, more than one he realised, twisted and turned and there were walls everywhere and the tribe home didn't have walls.  
  
He'd come to realise he was lost. Lost, alone, and with the slow inevitability that this was really a lot more frightening than he thought it would be.  
  
It was night, he thought, when his feet hurt too much to carry on and he sank down the wall to curl up and cry. He'd wrapped both his arms and his tail around his legs and rested his head on his knees, sniffling softly as his ears drooped.  
  
He'd heard the footsteps slowing as they neared. He hadn't paid it any mind, many had stopped and tutted at him. Probably shook their head too. "Another stray. Won't last long." He'd heard, tried not to tell himself that they were probably right.  
  
He waited for the tut. Nothing. A sigh this time maybe? Some of them had sighed, and he'd felt their pity somehow. Some even said "poor thing" but always walked away. This one hadn't walked away yet.  
  
Instead there's a massive hand on his hair, and he hisses and chokes on his tears and shuffles back as he trembles. He doesn't want to hurt again. He doesn't want to hurt and he can't go back any further because there's a wall behind him and... and...  
  
"It's alright." The voice says, a man's voice, and it's soft and deep and sort of... rich? It makes him think of the coffee he smelled when he passed one of the many busy places. "It's alright." The man repeats, quietly and even more softly, and he hears fabric rustling so he thinks he's kneeling? The hand is on his head again, feather light and gentle fingers in his hair, smooth nails against his ears, and it's what his mother never gave him and it makes his breath hitch around a sob and his shoulders shake like the leaves in his favourite tree when the storms hit.

"I won't hurt you." The man with the huge hand rumbles above him, and his fingers are pressing softly at his ear now, the palm flat on the top of his head as the finger and thumb rub tiny circles at the tip of his ear. He still wants to run but that hand actually feels sort of... nice? He's never had a nice touch before and the urge to lean into it and maybe purr a little slowly starts to convince his mind that that's a better idea than running.  
  
He doesn't do either. He trembles instead and tries to stay as still as possible.  
  
"It's alright Little One." The man whispers again and his voice is _warm_ and that reminds him that he's so very cold, probably why he's shaking so much. He finally raises his head, not that he can see the man, but it means the man can see him. The hand on his hair pauses and he wonders if he made a mistake, braces himself for more hurt. _Pleasedon't pleasedon't._  
  
There's a long moment of silence. He tries to count how long it is but then he remembers that he only knows a few numbers. All he can hear is some noise far away, probably the grown-ups with their ale, and the man's breathing.  
  
Then the hand moves in his hair again and he thinks he can hear a smile in the man's voice when he says "Hi there." And it's soft and gentle and he thinks of the time he tried to hug his mother and wonders if this man would allow it. He doesn't try though, just sits and stares sightlessly at him.  
  
"You're probably hungry, aren't you?" The man murmurs and it takes him a moment to realise that he's being asked a question and you're supposed to answer questions. If he was honest he was too cold to think of food, but now he's been reminded that he hasn't eaten in... how long? He opens his mouth to answer but all that comes out is a croak. His stomach rumbles (Was it really that loud?) And the man sounds amused when he says "I'll take that as a yes."  
  
There's a hand at his back now, he tries not to think about how big that hand really is, how it almost covers all of his back as the other is under his knees, and then suddenly he's much further away from the ground than he's been since the last time he hid up the tree.  
  
He thinks he let's out a squeal, but it comes out strange as he's held close to the man's chest. His clothing is soft, and when he puts a hand to it he thinks it feels expensive. He's not sure why he thinks that, maybe it's because it's so smooth, and there's an odd texture that's full of tiny holes and he remembers his sister talking about lace, and lace was expensive.  
  
The hand on his back moves, adjusts it's hold and now his thumb can rub soothing circles against the nape of his neck, and that's sort of nice too and this time he _does_ purr just a little bit.  
  
"We'll get a warm meal in you." The man says, his voice still warm and it makes him think of the honey he tried once, even though he had to sneak into the stores. Honey was rare and only deserving children got to have some. "A warm meal and a bath, and somewhere nice to sleep. Would you like that, Little One?"  
  
He takes a deep breath, let's it out. The man has called him that already, and it's gentle and kind but he isn't sure he likes it. Too much like "runt" so he opens his mouth to speak, croaks out a "Y-y'r-" and shakes his head, tries again. "Riel." He frowns, that wasn't right either, couldn't quite get the tribe-name out.  
  
He opens his mouth to try again. But the man is already speaking, "Nice to meet you, Riel." He says, and Y'riel considers that for a moment. It's not his name, but it could be? It's close enough, and he never truly belonged to the tribe anyway, so he decides not to correct him, rolls the name around in his head for a bit. Riel... Riel... it's not so bad. "Call me Az." The man, Az, tells him, adjusts his hold a little more, and Riel is more comfortable now than he thinks he's ever been.  
  
It shouldn't have surprised him that he'd fallen asleep, but what does is the soft sound of Az's humming, a sweet little tune he remembers hearing his mother singing to his sisters. A common lullaby in Thanalan. He always hoped she'd sing it to him one day.

 But Az's voice is warm and comforting, even if he doesn't know all the words and makes them up as he goes, or just hums instead. He doesn't stop his eyes sliding closed and letting sleep take over. He thinks Az's arms tighten around him, but it's getting hard to tell now, and he thinks he imagines Az softly placing the lightest chaste kiss to the top of his head before unconsciousness takes him.

XXXXX

  
When he wakes it's quiet and warm, indoors he thinks. There's no soft breeze and stones under his feet. He's lying on something soft, a bed, he realises after a moment of consideration. A bed that's far too big for him, but he snuggles back under the covers regardless.  
  
There's a sound to his left, and he sticks an ear out from under the blanket to listen further. It's somewhat far, but close enough for him to know it's singing.  
  
Az. Az was singing but it wasn't the lullaby from earlier. He couldn't make it out, a language he didn't know, but then it stopped and footsteps took its place, followed by a scent that had his stomach grumbling all over again.  
  
The soup was warm and soothing and full of meat and vegetables he'd never tried. Az explained each ingredient to him and how it was good for his immune system, whatever that was, or how it would help him keep his strength up, not that he had much to begin with.  
  
When he finished eating Az led him to a hot bath, helped him wash the grime from his hair and gave him privacy to let him wash his body himself, though he was still nearby, his voice a low comforting constant, but from the sound of it he must have turned away.  
  
When he finished Az carried him back to the bed, clothed in a shirt far too big for him that smelled of rolanberries and cotton grass, like _Az_ and that was comforting too.  
  
Az told him a story then, full of brave Princes coming to the rescue of damsels in distress. His favourite character was Ser Albert the Just, who travelled the world and had the grandest adventures. He gave his aid to any and all who needed it, and with his band of friends at his side, there was nothing he couldn't do. And as he slipped into sleep again, he wondered if he'd ever be brave like Ser Albert.

 


	2. Az

Az touches him again in the morning, wakes him with a gentle shake to his shoulder and a whisper of “Time to get up Little One.” his answer is a grumpy mumble and a tug at the sheet to bring it right up to his ears. He hears Az chuckle, the bed dipping next to him. Az must have sat down.

“If you don't get up, you can't have pancakes.” It doesn't sound like a threat, not the way the others tried to taunt him out of his tree or how his mother would send him on his way when he tried to hide behind her. When Az says it, he's amused and carefully peeling the covers away from his head. Happy. Warm. “Wouldn't you like some?”

His voice is still croaky from lack of use. Riel didn't like talking much, was rarely listened to when he did. But Az liked to talk, liked to ask _questions_ and suddenly he had to talk, because not answering a question was _rude,_ and he definitely wasn't rude.

“Wha's pancakes?” came his eventual reply, and he coughed to try and get his voice to work. He'd been told he mumbled too much, and he should stop it and speak clearly, but raising his voice was hard. He didn't like being loud.

Az never chastised him for mumbling though, he'd just ruffle his hair and speak with a smile in his voice. “Delicious is what pancakes are.” he answered with a chuckle, already scooping him up and carrying him off. He didn't protest whenever Az picked him up, the big man seemed to like doing it, and it meant Riel got to bury his nose in his chest and breath in rolanberries and cotton grass and he really liked those smells.

There was another smell, and it was just as pleasant, got stronger with every one of Az's long strides until he was placed down on something solid and wooden, a chair. There's a scraping sound that he identifies as Az sliding a plate across the table his legs are tucked under, feet swinging back and forth. When the smell is directly under his nose he realises that the plate must hold the “pancakes.” They certainly smelled delicious.

There's a hand on his, a massive hand, and it's pressing something metal into his. His little fingers slide over them, and he recognises them as a knife and fork. He mumbles a thank you, lets the smell guide where his cutlery needs to go.

Absently, he wonders when Az figured out that he couldn't see. He's never mentioned it once, didn't even give a hint of surprise like new members of his tribe often did. _“How can you do_ anything _if you can't see?”_ But he always brushes his hand when he passes something to him, gives him a moment to inspect it so he's sure the man _knows._

There's a different scraping sound, wood against the floor, Az must be taking his seat. He hears another set of cutlery tapping against another plate, Az eating his own breakfast, and he can't remember a time when anyone in his tribe ate with him.

“Good, aren't they?” that gentle voice that somehow manages to rumble at the same time says in his ear, a playful nudge to his elbow accents it, and he nods. The pancakes _are_ good even if they don't seem much like cakes to him. Az is still moving though, his hand brushes his again and it's holding something, moving over his plate. “Here, try some syrup too.” there's a sort of _plopping_ noise as something lands on his pancake, and when he sniffs the air it's sweet. When he puts another piece in his mouth there's something wet and sticky on it, and it really makes the pancake taste even _better._

When they finish eating, Az takes him outside, says they need to go shopping. “I have some errands to run, and you need new clothes.”

He's not sure what's wrong with his clothes, they feel fine to him, but Az insists they're too small and too ragged. Az holds him against his hip as he carries him through noisy streets, and he tries to tell him that he can walk just fine, which brings a horrified noise from the man and “But you haven't any shoes Little One!”

He doesn't think that's a problem, he's never worn shoes in his life, doesn't like the idea of not being able to feel the ground under his feet. But Az is warm and he kind of likes being carried by him, makes him feel safe, secure.

Az talks to people, asking questions about clothing and sizes that he doesn't really understand, but he's content to rest his cheek on the man's broad chest and listen to the clinking sounds as Gil is exchanged. The stall keepers all address Az as “Sir” and it makes him wonder if he's someone important. One even calls him “Mi'lord” but Az chuckles, he feels his arm move, probably waving his hand and answers with “Please, Azranahr is fine.”

That must be his full name, like his is “Y'riel” but he prefers to be called “Riel.” Once he tugs at Az's sleeve, tries to say it but can only get as far as “Azrrn” before his tongue trips over itself. Az just chuckles, nuzzles his nose in his hair next to his ear, and that makes him giggle before he says “You get to call me Az, remember?”

He's decided he likes Az. He's known him barely a day, but he's friendly and kind, gives him food and clothing and _affection_ and he's never had _that_ before. He's finally beginning to understand why his sisters asked their mother to cuddle them so much, wishes she'd let him have one just once.

He wonders if it would be okay to ask Az for a cuddle. He's about to, but then they're indoors again, and this place smells so strongly of leather it makes his nose crinkle. Az is talking to someone and he's being set down on a wooden bench, and he didn't really want Az to put him down but he supposes it's important.

“Here, try this on.” Az is saying, a big hand propping up his heel as something slides onto his foot. He definitely doesn't like _that_ and squeaks as he pulls his foot away. “Come now Little One.” Az says sweetly as he tries again, “You must have shoes. They'll stop your feet getting hurt.”

No no _no._ He doesn't want shoes. _Can't_ wear shoes. His feet need to be bare or he can't learn the ground and doesn't Az _understand_ that? The leather gets as far as covering his toes before he's leaping off of the bench, scrambling away and finding the nearest thing to hide behind. Of course Az finds him easily, must have saw where he went, and he's speaking softly, trying to explain just why he _needs_ shoes in what Riel supposes is the most gentle voice he can muster – and it _is_ very gentle – and he feels a hand on his foot again, but then there's leather brushing against it and he _hisses._

Eventually Az gives in, his voice sounding defeated when he eventually says “Alright, no shoes.” and Riel thinks it probably safe to come out from his hiding place now. He hears an apology from Az, but it's not directed at him, probably the shop owner. After he crawls out there's hands on his hips and it's Az lifting him, and he wants to lean into him again, but Az tried to make him wear _shoes_ so he's not certain that's a good idea, remains stiff as Az arranges him on his hip.

But then they're leaving the store, and Az's other arm wraps around him too before burying his face in his hair and whispering “Sorry Little One. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

And that's when he realises that this is a _cuddle._ Az is cuddling him and thinks he's upset. And he is just a little bit, but he's certainly not frightened any more, not with Az's big, strong arms around him and how he has his head tucked under his chin. This is warm and _safe_ and he's quite happy to stay there.

So he tries to cuddle back, but his arms are far too short to reach around Az's chest, no way he'll get them around his shoulders either, so he shuffles around and brings his arms up, but he still can't quite _reach_ and he curses being so damned small.

But Az must notice, because his arms move so he's held up higher, and _now_ he can drape his arms around Az's neck and lean on his shoulder, and that's _much_ better. There's a chuckle in his ear that tells him everything is alright, and fingers gently scratch his ears as his tail winds around one of those arms.

“How about something nice to eat, hm?” it took him a moment to register that Az was speaking to him, he was so comfortable he'd even thought going to sleep would be a good idea. He's not hugely hungry, but Az is already walking, and the smells are filling his nose and suddenly he _is._

They stop in front of what he assumes is a stall of some kind, Az is speaking and a woman's voice is answering, and then there's a hand pinching his cheek, but it's not Az's hand and it's not Az's voice either that says “And what shall we get for this sweet little one?”

He bristles, he still doesn't like people touching him, people that aren't Az anyway, and “little one” still sounds like “runt” unless Az says it. He stiffens and clenches his jaw, ready to bite if she touches him again, but Az is talking quickly and he hears him hurriedly hand over some Gil before he's taking him away again.

There's an apology on his lips but Az doesn't give him a chance to say it, he's already pressing something round and sticky into his hand and saying “Here, I think you'll like this.” he doesn't sound angry at all, so maybe an apology isn't needed? The round thing in his hand smells sweet when sniffs it, but it is really very sticky and he's not sure what he's supposed to do with it.

“Wha'sit?” he asks, turning it around and around until both his hands are covered in the sticky stuff. That's sort of fun, but he reminds himself not to touch his hair, and _definitely_ not Az's hair.

“Candy apple.” Az tells him, and he likes the sound of that. He's never had candy and he's wanted to try an apple since his brother bragged about one. It's crunchy when he first bites into it, then juicy and sugary sweet, and it's one of the best things he's ever tasted.

Az disposes of the core for him when he finishes, laughs when he wipes the sugar away from his cheeks and hands with a handkerchief. He's still laughing when he playfully chides “What a mess you've gotten yourself in.” and he likes this too, thinks making a mess would be okay so long as it's Az helping him get clean after.

When night settles and Az declares it's time for sleep, instead of heading to the bed as directed, he crawls onto Az's lap and curls up there. The man does try to convince him that the bed would be much comfier for him, but Riel just mumbles “Nuh.” and settles more comfortably. He's not sure when it was that he fell asleep, but when he wakes he's in the bed. There's a moment of panic before he realises that Az is lying next to him, his breath coming out in snores that are fairly loud for a person so polite and gentle, Riel hadn't imagined him as a snorer.

Panic abated, he curls himself more comfortably in the loop of Az's arm and lets sleep take him again.

 


	3. Calamity

He stays with Azranahr for two years. He learns all about Ul'dah, the city streets and which ones to avoid. Az never lets him out on his own, which is fine because he doesn't really want to be on his own anyway, but Az teaches him regardless, “Just in case we're separated.”

He learns how to talk properly too, Az teaches him so many words that sometimes he wonders how he remembers them all. Although when Az speaks to other people he uses lots of very big words and even though he asks what they mean, he doesn't always understand. A lot of the time they mean the same thing as a smaller word and he wonders what the point is in using a big word if it means the same as something else.

Az is always happy to teach him though, he does like to talk. Sometimes Riel asks him to tell him a story just so he can listen to the man talk, how he describes the magical places the heroes go in vivid colours that Riel doesn't know the difference between, but likes to hear anyway.

But there's some words Az won't explain.

“Azzie,” he says once while he turns a wooden toy over and over in his hands. Az told him it was a dragon, which was a fierce creature that lived very far away, beyond a place called “Ishgard” which was covered in snow. He thinks he'd like to go there, he wants to know what snow felt like. Dragons are supposed to be covered in scales and have very big teeth and can breath fire or ice and Riel thinks they sound pretty scary and doesn't really want to meet one _ever._ But he likes the toy, Az carved it for him especially. The wings move and make a “shhr-click” sound when they do and it keeps him amused. “What's a-” he pauses, trying to remember the word he'd heard properly, “-a concubine?”

Az – or Azzie, as he'd taken to calling him – drops the quill he'd been using to write his letter, and it lands softly on Riel's foot. He picks it up and holds it up for him, but Az is spluttering and is very slow to take it back. It makes Riel's brow furrow, did that mean it was one of the “bad words” he wasn't supposed to say?

“It's uh... Er...” Az is hesitating, and that's very unlike him, so he puts his toy down and shuffles around on the floor so he's facing the chair Az sits on, his head tipped to one side. Finally Az takes the quill back, and Riel thinks he feels embarrassment. He's pretty sure _he's_ not embarrassed though so it must be Az.

“It's...” he coughs once, and Riel hears him turning back in his chair, “You'll find out when you're older.” he finishes. The sound of the quill scratching on parchment returns to his ears, and Riel huffs as he realises Az isn't going to explain it to him. This has happened before, when he asked what “Whoreson” meant. Az gave him the exact same answer then too, and refused to say more on the subject no matter how much he asked.

So he changes tactic, “How much older?”

Az laughs, and Riel knows from the sound of it that he won't win this one either, but he won't be deterred. He gets to his feet and climbs up on to Az's lap, head titled up towards him expectantly.

“ _Much_ older.” is the answer he gets, and that's not the answer he was looking for, so he tries to find a spot where he's directly between Az and the parchment on the desk. He's not an overly petulant child, but he _is_ curious and he just needs Az to realise that he'll get out of the way once he has an answer.

“But _how_ much older?” he tries again, feeling a little bit victorious as he no longer hears the scratching of the quill.

Az, however, simply settles his huge hands on his tiny sides, turns him around so he has his back to him, and holds him close. At first Riel thinks this is a perfectly good substitute. Az might not be giving him an answer, but he's giving him cuddles and that's okay.

But as far as victories go, it's upsettingly short lived. He hears the scratching of the quill resume and realises that yes, Az is cuddling him nice and tight, but he's also holding him _out of the way_ so he can keep writing. He certainly doesn't miss the tone of smugness when Az says. “Much _much_ older.”

Riel huffs, and then he squirms because this isn't going to plan _at all._ If he can just stand up he could take Az's face in his hands and get him to _pay attention._ But Az's arm is thick enough that it covers his stomach entirely, most of his chest too, and even if he flails his arms, he's just _too little_ and Az is far _too big_ and that combination means he _can't reach Az's face._

He tries anyway. And it doesn't work as expected. He tries kicking his legs too, and that gets Az's arm to slacken. Tasting freedom, he braces himself on his hands, reading to spring up and away, almost makes it too, but Az's arm catches him at the last second and he's back where he started.

He huffs, defeated. The quill is still scratching away, he's no closer to getting an answer and no closer to getting Az to play with him either. He folds his arms, but Az's arm is very much in the way of him folding them across his chest in what he assumes is an unimpressed expression, so he rests them on top of Az's arm instead and then his chin on top of them.

There's a subtle change in Az's posture, he's shaking so very lightly that Riel almost missed it. He's about to ask what's wrong, but then a little sound comes out and he realises the man is trying to hold back laughter.

The scratching quill has stopped and Az is saying “What? Giving up already?” and before he can do anything about it, the arm around him adjusts the angle he's sitting at, tightens, and the other is no longer holding the quill because it's at his side and _tickling_ him and all he can do is squeal and kick his legs and squeal some more and “Azzie no! Stop stop _stop_ _Azzie!!”_

But he's laughing, and so is Az as he hoists him up and carries him away, drops him on the bed. He tries to scramble away, but Az is serious about tickling and grabs his ankle and drags him back before he can make an escape.

He acts like he hates it, but Az knows he doesn't unless it goes on too long, and thankfully Az knows when enough is enough. But it makes Az laugh too, and Riel likes it when he does. Az is fun and kind and caring, but he doesn't seem to notice that sometimes Riel can feel what he does, and he knows that there are times when Az is horribly _sad._ When he lets himself feel that, it's usually after he's put Riel to bed and thinks he's asleep. Riel doesn't like to think about how many times Az has sat awake by himself while he actually _has_ been asleep. But once he couldn't stand it any more, felt it so strongly that he ended up crying even though it was Az who was upset. He'd padded his way out of the bedroom, flung himself onto the man's lap and held on as tight as he could.

He doesn't think he's ever had a nightmare. Az has though, only maybe two or three times in the two years he's lived with him. The first time terrified him, when Az had jolted upright in their bed, screaming like he was in pain. He'd done his best to find out what was wrong, tried to comfort him while he cried and begged forgiveness, “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm _sorry!_ ” repeated like a mantra. He'd eventually managed to calm him, get him back to sleep.

Other times he didn't wake, but he'd toss and turn and murmur “Zorai” and “Valko” and “I'm sorry.” But he never talked about it when he waked, claimed he didn't remember. At first Riel thought he was lying, just didn't want to talk, but once he asked “Who's Valko?” and while Az said the name was familiar, he didn't know, but he wished he did. Had wondered before himself.

Az must of thought he'd had a nightmare, that night when he clung to him and cried, tried to comfort the boy even though Riel was trying to comfort him. He didn't have words to explain it though, so he didn't.

So he likes moments like this, when Az is unguarded and _happy_ and it's worth being unable to breathe for a while just so he can hear Azzie laugh.

But Az stops suddenly, far sooner than he usually would, and he's off the bed and away faster than Riel's known him to move. Faster even than the time Riel had wandered into the path of a chocobo that had gotten spooked by something.

“Azzie...?” he starts, because he can't hear him move, and if his hearing wasn't so good he doubted he'd have heard him breathing. He did, thankfully, but he was far more silent than Riel was used to.

Like a wave crashing over rocks, not that he'd heard what that was like except for Az's stories, he felt it all at once. He knew it was all coming from Az, and he gasped at the intensity of it, an emotion he'd felt before, within himself and others, but never so strong that his heart almost stopped.

_Fear._

Az was _terrified,_ and because of that, so was he. He shivered and tried to ask what was going on, but no words were coming out and _why was Azzie so scared?_

The next moment, he was swept up into Az's arms and he was running, he didn't stop to pick anything up, not even his favourite quill, and now Riel was terrified to because what could make Az this _frantic?_

“We have to get out of here.” was all Az said. He might have said more, but then they were outside and that's when he started hearing the screams. Sometimes there were crashes and Az's direction changed erratically. Once he bent over Riel and cried out, and he realised something had hit the man's back. He didn't know what was happening, clung to Az's shirt while he ran and ran and “I'll keep you safe, I've got you, don't worry I've got you. We'll be okay.”

Riel wondered if Az was trying to comfort him, or himself.

People were screaming all around them, and he thinks he heard men shouting directions and he doesn't know what else. He heard glass shattering and he thinks the other sound was maybe rocks breaking, walls falling down. And there was heat, fire everywhere and the rapid _thump thump_ of Az's heart under his ear.

 

XXXXX

 

He doesn't remember much of that day, doesn't really _want_ to. He was told what had happened. It was like something out of one of Az's stories, but this time the only _happily ever after_ was the fact that they were alive. So many weren't.

And worse, Az was leaving, which was fine but he didn't understand why he had to _stay._

“It's too dangerous for you, Little One.” Az was saying, a hand on his hair, but it was covered in metal and it wasn't warm. “You'll be looked after in the orphanage. I'll come visit, I promise.”

But no no _no._ That wasn't right, Az had to stay or he had to go with him, either was fine with him. Didn't Az _understand?_ Nowhere was dangerous if he was with Az, because _Az_ was safety and if he wasn't with him then he wasn't safe any more.

He'd clung to Az's leg, and that was covered in metal too and there was spikes on it here and there. He begged Az to stay or to take him along, but Az just kneeled, hugged him but not as tight as he normally would, didn't want to crush him against the metal. He flung his arms around his neck, found a long stick sitting near it, and it all came to him at once. Az was wearing _armour_ and that was a _lance._ That meant he was going to fight and he might get hurt and no no no no.

He's set on the ground again, too numb with the thought that Az might get hurt. He feels the kiss to the top of his head before Az stands again, talking to the woman whom he'd told him earlier he was to call “Matron.” he only caught half of his words, too caught up in _Az is leaving._

“...And he doesn't like carrots overmuch, but if you cut them small they can be hidden amongst the rest of his food and he'll remain unaware. Oh, and please allow him not to wear shoes, I _know_ he might hurt his feet but he's really very averse to them.”

“We'll do our best, Ser Stormchaser.”

There was another ruffle to his head, and Az's voice sounded choked when he said “Please take care of him.” and then he was gone, and Riel cried while a woman he didn't know held him and made no difference.

 

XXXXX

 

Az visited once three years later. By the time another year passed, Riel couldn't wait any longer and set off into the world alone, leaving yet another home that didn't feel like a home.

Another year later, Az returned to the orphanage to find no trace of him.

 


	4. The Shroud

It takes him six years to find Azranahr.

He hadn't considered it would take that long, but then, what he _also_ hadn't considered was that he couldn't describe him all that well to anyone, and so he couldn't really ask for help. He knows his hair is white, he'd asked once. There was a day he'd trailed his fingers over Az's face and asked him to tell him what he looks like. His hair was white, and one of his eyes was blue, the other was amber but he didn't like that so he often let his hair cover it, and he had high cheekbones and long pointed ears.

He did ask for help once, described him as best as he could, “Long white hair, high cheek bones, really tall and long pointed ears. He uses lots of big words.” but the man he asked just laughed at him, telling him “Ya jus' described near ev'ryone o' them puffed up Ishgardian types, kid.”

It occurred to him then, that Az never talked about where he was from.

He didn't like being called “kid” either. He was eighteen, a _man_ now. Though he supposed he was still very small, could probably pass as a child somewhat easily.

Who he _did_ find, though not whom he was looking for, was a chocobo he named “Mocha.” She was small like he was, seemed to understand him when he spoke and even when he didn't. She'd curl up with him at night and keep him warm, and during the day she'd nudge him away from more dangerous paths in the road.

He enjoyed travelling with Mocha, she was good company despite that she couldn't talk. He liked the little clicking noises she made with her beak if he scratched the feathers of her neck in _just_ the right spot.

What she _couldn't_ do, however, was tell him where he was. He knew he'd have to find _people_ in order to do that, but all he smelled around him was leaves and bark from what he guessed were hundreds and hundreds of trees. The Shroud maybe? Az had told him all about The Shroud, covered in forests and full of creatures both harmless and deadly.

But La Nocsea had forests too, so he wasn't certain. Definitely not Thanalan, he thinks he remembers hearing about some small thickets there, but he'd been in this forest for days so he was sure this wasn't a small thicket.

Unless he was going in circles.

But Mocha was here, and she hadn't led him down the wrong path yet, so he trusted in her and kept walking. There had to be a village _somewhere._ The idea of talking to people wasn't something he was looking forward to, but sooner or later he had to come across _someone_ who knew Az, right?

Not to mention he was hungry. Mocha could nudge him towards berries and roots he could eat, and he did, but he couldn't build a fire and cook anything, and the various flora wasn't exactly filling. What he wouldn't give for a hot meal.

The path he was on was getting thinner, or he thought so as he would occasionally stub his toe on a tree root. Mocha nudged his arm with a quiet little “kweh.” She sounded anxious in his ears, but they'd started on this path yesterday, and hadn't found any turn-offs along the way, the only way to go was forward even though he really didn't like how the ground was getting softer under his feet.

There was a scent that made his nose crinkle, something like rotting food he'd smelled in the back alleys of Ul'dah, but somehow _worse_ and it made him cough. Mocha seemed to dislike it just as much, flapping her wings and squawking.

A hand on her neck helped and a soothing “Shh, it's all right” seemed to help quiet her, but she was still tense under his fingers, feathers puffed out and her muscles stiff. “I know it smells bad, but we'll be passed it soon, we just have to keep going, okay girl?”

She still wasn't happy, but she plodded along beside him regardless.

The ground was getting softer still, mud squelching up between his toes with every step. Had there been a storm maybe? Or was he walking his way into a bog? Az had told him about bogs too, about how they were smelly and you had to be careful since it was hard to tell how deep they ran.

He prayed to the Twelve that it was just wet from a storm. Wandering into a bog could be dangerous, especially when he had no idea where he was exactly, hadn't heard a person's voice for days, and screeching in the distance told him that there was something potentially unfriendly far enough that he had a good chance of remaining undetected, but close enough that he should probably be worried.

And then his foot sank into the ground up to his knee, and the cry he let out was loud enough that he belatedly realised whatever was making that awful noise probably heard him. Not helped by Mocha _panicking._ Simultaneously trying to free his leg _and_ calm a spooked bird was far more difficult than it had any right to be. The closer he felt to getting his leg out of the muck, the more Mocha would panic, but he couldn't do much to soothe her when he felt panic of his own rising in his chest.

Finally, _finally_ he got his foot loose, and he barely paused to shake the mud off of it before he was at Mocha's side, hugging her neck and whispering “I'm okay girl, I'm okay. It's fine, don't worry.” But her wings were still flapping and she would have knocked him back into the bog if he hadn't caught himself in time.

He reached out for her again, burying his fingers in her feathers, “Just calm down will you! We have to-”

Then he froze.

So did Mocha.

Behind him, something warm, wet and a smell that made him nauseous wafted against the back of his neck. Something entirely unpleasant dripped onto his shoulder. It was like the world around him came to a complete stop while his brain caught up with what was happening and told him, “ _Run.”_

But he didn't, and he's not sure what prompted him to do it, the thought having never occurred to him before. His fingers clamped around Mocha's feathers, then the next second he was vaulting onto her back while she galloped ahead. He very nearly fell off, having misjudged completely and having no idea how to position himself, but he found his balance and clung to her neck, eyes screwed shut as he willed her to be faster than whatever it was chasing them.

He's not certain how long they flee for, his mind too occupied with _“don't let go don't let go.”_ As branches whip at his face and arms and mud sprays around them, splattering against his legs and probably all over Mocha's feathers.

He's not sure what causes it, did he hit a branch or did Mocha trip on something? But the next moment his back is colliding with the ground and he's too winded to make much of a noise. When he reaches out all he feels is wet dirt and no feathers, so he pushes himself up, teeth grinding together as his body protests from the pain.

Once he's on his feet, he pauses, takes a deep breath and listens. He thinks he can hear Mocha chirping worriedly to his left, but she's further away than he's used to her being and that has him anxious. His ear twitches as he pinpoints her direction, puts one foot in front of the other and tries to find her.

Only the second he does he's falling again, face in the mud. Something is coiled around his leg, and at first he thinks it's a tree root. He rolls over, reaching down to dislodge it when something curls around his other leg, and there's very little doubt now that he's in _very real trouble._

The moment he realises that horrifying fact, he kicks his legs against whatever is holding them, reaches down and claws at them as best as he can, but then something wraps around his arms too, lifts him away from the ground and pulls his limbs away from each other so hard it makes him cry out. That awful smell is all around him, and he slowly begins to piece together what kind of creature has caught him. Remembers Az telling him all about them.

“ _Awful things. They don't seem to have eyes or ears, but they'll find and eat anything that comes into their territory. They don't have hands or feet either, but tentacles, like that squid we had for dinner once. Remember the squid? When I let you feel all it's tentacles? Like that, but lots lots more. They use them to move and catch prey, and their breath is so bad it could knock you unconscious if you're not careful. Oh, and lots of teeth. Sharp teeth. Could easily crunch through bones.”_

“ _Do they live here, Azzie?” He asked with a shaky breath, it sounded terrifying, he didn't want to be anywhere near one, even if Az said he's defeated one before._

“ _Oh no Little One, Malboro's don't live in Thanalan.” Az answered, adjusting Riel's tiny frame in his lap and nuzzling his nose against the top of his head, “I've only ever heard of them living in The Shroud and Mor Dhona.”_

_He had trouble sleeping that night, clung to Az while the man had muttered “Maybe shouldn't have told that story...”_

Malboro. He'd been caught by a Malboro, and the moment he realised that fact was the same moment he also realised he was going to die.

That awful breath was hot and sickly against his cheek, tentacles wrapping around his chest and making it harder for him to struggle, he felt razor sharp teeth against his leg and scrunched his eyes shut, grit his teeth together as he braced himself for the pain.

Only it wasn't the kind of pain he expected, granted, it's not like he knew what being eaten alive would feel like, but he knew the pain of falling to the ground and that was definitely what had happened here. He could still feel the tentacles around his limbs, but nowhere near as tight, and when he reached down he found they ended much sooner than he anticipated they should, something warm oozing from them... Severed.

And that's when he heard the screaming, or roaring, or whatever that noise was, either way he was certain it was the Malboro and that it was in pain. He could hear splashing as it writhed in the pool against whatever was assailing it, followed by an almighty _crash._ Did it fall? Was it dead? He couldn't hear it any more.

Then there's a hand a massive hand on his hair, and he hisses the moment it makes contact, scrambles back but the mud makes it difficult and his back collides with what he thinks is a large exposed tree root. He doesn't have a weapon, wouldn't know how to use one even if he did, so he keeps hissing instead, ears held flat as he tries to make himself as threatening as someone as small as he can.

“It's alright.”

He freezes, ears perked up immediately. He knows that voice, hasn't heard it for years, but he knows it as well as the sound of Ul'dah's market. It sounds like coffee and honey and makes him feel like he's home.

“Let's get a warm meal in you.” he says, and Riel feels his heart swell, wants to leap up and wrap his arms around and never let go. He tries to, but his legs give out. The man catches him instantly, lifts him as easily as he did when he was only half the size he is now. “A warm meal, a bath, and somewhere nice to sleep. Would you like that Little One?”

He doesn't have to say anything, just holds on tighter and breathes in rolanberry and cotton grass.

 


	5. Haven

Turns out, Az couldn't carry him against his hip like he used to. He's a little too big for that now. Not by much, Az could still manage it, but it was a bit more of a struggle now. Much easier for both of them if Riel clung to his back instead, arms around his neck and face in his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable though, the metal of Az's armour dug into his cheek. He didn't let it stop him though.

And the joy of finally finding his friend didn't leave him despite that Az hadn't stopped lecturing him since they reunited with Mocha.

“Heading off Halone knows where all by yourself, utterly foolish Little One.” it had to be going on for over an hour now, but Riel mostly tuned it out, focused on the steady _thump_ of Az's feet against the ground, the sound of his voice rather than his words, and the feel of his silky hair where it fell over his arm. “And right into Malboro territory to boot. By the Fury, what madness took you to think that was a clever idea?”

Riel shrugged, murmured a “Didn't know there'd be Malboros.” - and to be fair, he didn't – and buried his face closer to Az's neck, he could smell him better there, and with all the heavy plate in the way he didn't really _feel_ like Az, having his scent right in his nose was the best comfort to him right now.

“Well, not much further now.” Az told him, and he hoped that meant the lecture was over for now, would much rather the man talked about something else, something like _where he's been all these years?_

And that was what he was going to ask, but what came out was “To where?” He could feel a breeze against his cheek now, the forest must have opened up, and the scent of wild flowers began to fill his nose, they must be somewhere much more pleasant than the bog, should hope so after how long they've walked.

Well... How long Az and Mocha walked.

“Here.” Az eventually said, as if that explained anything. He'd stopped as he adjusted his hold on the boy, setting him on the ground. His toes touched soft grass, and he curled and wiggled them to inspect it further. Short, like it had been trimmed recently. He felt a large hand wrap around his, Az's, leading him further along the grass which he found had the occasional smooth, flat stone embedded into it. Some sort of path perhaps?

They'd stopped, Az tugging at his hand, “There's a stable here where your feathery friend can sleep. She won't be starved for company, you needn't worry.” he says. Riel reaches out, and Mocha nudges his palm with her beak almost instantly. With Az's aid, he guides her to the stable, twice, since after leaving her there the first time she followed him straight back out. He wasn't fond on using stern words with her, but Az seemed to think it was the best place for her at the moment, so that was where she'd have to stay.

A broad hand on his back helped guide him along the path, turned to his left and, “Mind your toes Little One, three steps up.” he nods at the instruction, his hand finding Az's elbow and resting there. There's the unmistakable click of a door opening, and after three more steps – two for Az – there's wooden floorboards under his feet and warmth all around.

“Welcome home Azzie!” cries a voice, it sounds high above, but not far ahead. It's followed by some steady thumps, someone walking downstairs he thinks, but halts before they reach the bottom, “Who's your friend?” it sounds like a woman's voice, and there's more footsteps coming from both his left and right. Instinct takes over, his hand finds the middle of Az's back, uses that to guide him in hiding behind him.

He hears Az chuckle over him, one hand reaching behind and rubbing the back of his head gently, “Do forgive Riel, he's a little shy.” he answers the unknown woman while his hand moves lower, trying to coax him out. He hesitantly allows it, but he holds firm onto his friend's arm, keeping it in front of him. Az doesn't try to dislodge him, but he can feel him bending towards him, speaking softly into his ear, “It's alright Little One, these people are friends. Come say hello to the Haven.”

 

XXXXX

 

The Hearth Haven – or simply Haven, as Az calls them – started out as a group of Hunters, people who tackled dangerous creatures who had gotten far too close to villages for comfort. Riel remembers Az telling stories about his adventures with some hunters, how often his role was to charge at a beast and keep it occupied, fangs and claws aimed away from those who were more skilled at exploiting a creature's weakness.

He'd shivered, the idea frightening. The idea of _Az getting hurt_ even more so.

Soon enough, the Haven started taking in people from all walks of life, from those who could hunt, to those skilled in healing, or cooking, or even _sewing._ Everyone had a role to play, even if it seemed the most mundane task you could think of.

Naturally, everyone had wanted to meet “The friend Az has been searching for for years!” but the problem was that they all wanted to meet Riel _at once_ and that had him scurrying to hide behind Az again. He didn't like loud noise or sudden touches – except from Az – but thankfully the large man allowed him to hide, clinging to his arm while he explained, “One at a time if you please. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but do be considerate.”

After that, Az had taken him aside, helped him clean up and found him a change of clothes before introducing him to everyone, one at a time, thankfully.

There was D'emi, who seemed to be the loudest, but she was sweet and promised to fetch him a hot meal the moment he was ready. She seemed more excited about meeting Mocha though, ensured she would be safe with the other birds. She was in charge of looking after them all, she proclaimed, and prided herself on her knowledge of proper chocobo care.

Then there was T'rau, who thankfully wasn't loud, but Riel was intimidated by him none the less. He had an air of authority to him that put him on edge, but when he left, Az assured him that the man had a heart of gold and would do his best to guarantee his safety.

Zorai came next, and out of all of them, he found her to be the easiest to be around, aside from Az of course. She had a way of speaking that left the others confused, but he didn't have trouble understanding her at all. She had laughter like the wind-chimes Az used to have hanging by his window, and after introducing herself, she had said “We're very glad to know you Mister Riel!”

“Ah... Just Riel is fine.” he'd answered.

“Ooooh, No problems Just-Riel!” She called him that every day ever since. It reminded him of the stories Az told him years ago, of Ser Albert the Just and his band of comrades, who went to any length to lend those in need their aid. He never corrected her, decided he liked being Just-Riel.

There were many others too, Dyolfen the engineer, who worked at a place called The Gold Saucer. Cyb, T'rau's daughter, who was gentle when she spoke but full of life. Izzy, who, despite also having a different way of talking, he struggled to understand, but he liked him all the same. Others too, who weren't there at the time and came and went like the dust storms in Thanalan.

They gave him his own room too, a comfortable bed and chests of drawers that he could fill with possessions he didn't own, but he liked the idea of having them just the same. Mostly they held clothes, hand-me-downs from the others until he could manage to get new ones. Az insisted on tailoring some for him himself, but he didn't mind overly much.

“That shade of green just does not suit you, Little One.” Az had said, but he didn't know what that shade of green looked like, so he wasn't perturbed.

His room though, for the most part, was only used to store his clothes. On the first night, he settled down to sleep, but he dreamt of nauseating breath on his cheek and sharp teeth on his leg. He'd gotten up and padded out of his room, felt along the wall until he found the door five along from his own, and crept inside, found his way to the bed and curled against Az's arm.

Az hadn't said a word, simply rolled over onto his side and wrapped his other arm around him.

On the second night, he had the same dream, and the third and the fourth. Each night he'd make his way to Az's room and burrow himself in his warmth. On the fifth he'd tried his best to sleep alone, but it caused him to wake in tears, and he all but flung himself into the man's waiting arms.

Az held him, stroked his hair and whispered soft reassurances, promised his protection, and Riel breathed in rolanberry and cotton grass.

By the sixth night, he didn't even go to his own room, was in Az's bed before the man himself, and once again he didn't object, simply pulled back the covers and climbed in next to him.

In the mornings, Az would wake him with gentle nudges to his shoulder, and inform him that breakfast would be ready soon.

It was at the breakfast table on the twenty-seventh morning, he was sat happily next to Az, eating pancakes – his favourite – when T'rau leaned over the table, the soft _thud_ telling Riel he'd placed his elbows on the wood, possibly leaning his chin on his hands, though he wasn't certain, and said, “So, how long have you two been sleeping together?”

Instantly, Riel answers “Since I came here.” but he's certain he's missed something, his answer drowned out by the sound of Az choking next to him. Immediately he's on his feet, thumping his friend's broad back and helping dislodge the food stuck in his throat. He coughs, reaches out for what Riel assumes is his glass of orange juice.

“Well?” T'rau continues, like nothing happened.

“We aren't.” Az finally says, his voice somewhat broken from where his throat hasn't quite righted itself.

And that's confusing, because Riel _has_ been sleeping next to Az every night, and he's not certain why his friend is denying it. What exactly is he missing here? T'rau's tone seems to be highly amused, and D'emi is giggling but sounds like she's trying to stifle it.

“Oh come on!” T'rau is saying, and Az is awfully fidgety it his side, “We've all seen how you look at him,” and that's not exactly true, because whatever T'rau is getting at, Riel most _definitely_ hasn't seen it, “And he even sleeps in the same room as you. You can't tell me nothing is going on!”

Az is shifting at his side, moving his arms in a motion he's felt before, when he wipes his hands on one of his many handkerchiefs, then he's standing, and there's another soft _thud_ against the wood of the table, he put his hands down on it, maybe?

“There is nothing going on.”

His tone is clipped, like nothing Riel has heard before, and he thinks he feels... Anxiety? It's kind of hard to pinpoint exactly what it is with everyone else in the room. And then he's moving, walking away from the table, and for the second time he wonders exactly what he's missed.

T'rau doesn't seem bothered by it, chuckles and says “I suppose that wasn't _proper.”_ the last one coming out in a mimicry of Az's accent. Riel hears him shift in his chair, must have turned to face him with how his voice reaches his ears. “So? _Is_ there anything going on?”

Riel blinks, not entirely sure what T'rau is asking. Clearly _Az_ knows what it is, and he's not too pleased about it either, so he decides he needs more information, “What do you mean?”

T'rau is quiet for a very long time, too long for Riel's comfort, and his tone is very different from the joking one he spoke with earlier. When he finally says something, his voice is soft, careful, and it doesn't sound like he's actually talking to him at all. “So there really isn't anything... I was so sure too.”

“Sure about what?” he really does hate being confused. He's gotten used to needing things explained to him, but at times it still bothers him a great deal. Places, people, objects, those he doesn't mind having described to him, but when he feels like he's _missed_ something, that's when he ends up frustrated, feels like screaming _“Explain it to me!”_

He doesn't like raising his voice though.

T'rau had made it to his side, reaching out and ruffling his hair. He flinches at first, he still doesn't know T'rau all that well, but he reminds himself that the man is a _friend,_ is a member of the Haven and wouldn't do a thing to harm him.

“Don't worry about it kid.” is all he says, before he's wondering off too. D'emi had left at some point as well, and he curses himself for missing it. He's left alone in the dining room, trying to figure out what in the seven hells just happened.

 


	6. The Grand Ball of Free Companies

In the six moons he had been with the Haven, he's learned many things, not all of them useful, but he doesn't consider any knowledge completely useless, even if it sort of _is._

Cyb has a collection of stuffed animals. She introduced him to each and every one, telling him each of their names as she handed them over, let him turn it over in his hands and map out it's shape with his fingers before she lovingly placed it back on the shelf and handed him the next one.

Mara, the Haven's resident chef, made the best pancakes he'd ever tasted. She was kind and spoke to him softly, always allowed him in the kitchen to talk and would ensure he never strayed too close to hot pans on the stove. She liked wild flowers, and Riel soon learned that he could pick some not far from the Haven's home. If he gave them to her, there would be pancakes for breakfast the next day. He tried not to do it too often though, lest there be no flowers left to pick.

Zorai was often accompanied by a small fairy named “Pina.” He liked to sit outside on one of the benches, Zorai at his side while Pina would alternate between sitting on either of their shoulders. Pina didn't really talk, not with words anyway. She made sounds like soft tinkling bells, and Riel often wondered why it was that he could understand her. He enjoyed their conversations though, even if they had little meaning.

Once, they spent an evening dancing on the front lawn, not that it could really be called dancing. Az had told him once about different kinds of dancing, so he's fairly sure that simply swaying from one side to the other with his hands on Zorai's waist and hers on his shoulders didn't really qualify.

But he was laughing, and so was Zorai, and the little chimes he heard just above them told him Pina was laughing too. For a few moments, he could forget the tribe that wasn't home, the years he spent alone, his fear of almost anything around him. That evening he could just _be,_ and he marvelled at the fact that he'd found another with whom he felt like doing so was so easy.

When Az came to fetch them for supper, he'd ruffled his hair – probably Zorai's too he guessed from the way he leaned in her direction – and laughed with his coffee and honey and said “Ah, practising for the Ball are we?”

Zorai had giggled, answered with a “Maaaaybe.” while Riel blinked and said “Ball? Like the kind we used to play catch with?”

Az lead them inside with a arm over his shoulder, chuckling like he always seemed to do and said “No Little One, the kind with music and dancing. There is one to be held in Ul'dah in two moon's time to celebrate all the hard work the Free Companies do for Eorzea. Naturally, the Haven has also been invited.”

Riel had stopped dead in his tracks. Dancing? With _people?_ That sounded... Positively terrifying.

But Zorai had skipped up to him, put her arm over his other shoulder and sang, “We will have the mostest fun time!”

So that was how he found himself learning something else. The main foyer of the Haven Hall was the best place for it, or so Az said. It was his twentieth day there following Az's instructions on where to place his feet and when to turn and when to twist. To be quite fair, Riel was certain all the different steps for each dance where starting to meld into each other. Az was trying to teach him one he called a _tango._ But three days before he was learning a _waltz_ so when Az started to lead him off to his left, he took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Thank the Twelve Az was the most patient man he knew, otherwise he thinks this whole ordeal would be ten times worse.

“Let's try again Little One.” Az was saying, adjusting his hands for him, “And stand a little closer, this is a dance of _passion,_ not propriety.”

“Passion, right.” he mumbles as Az sweeps him into a turn, counting out loud for him and interjecting the numbers with instructions, “One, two, left foot forward, head facing left, three, four, and back again, now turn.”

He's not sure how long it goes on for, but by the end of it, he's pretty sure he's no closer to mastering the _tango_ and to top it all off, he's exhausted. He settles on the floor, hands on his knees while he tries to find his breath.

He feels Az sit next to him, folding his long legs into a more comfortable position. “You're getting better,” he says, and he knows the hair ruffle is coming before it happens, he always does it when he praises him, “ _Tango_ can be tricky, full of quick movements. But do not lose heart, you'll perfect it with enough practise.”

Riel shrugs, isn't quite as confident as his friend in his ability. He was going to voice his concerns, but what comes out is “Where did you learn all this?”

“My mother taught me when I was no bigger than you.”

He thinks that over, it's hard to imagine Az being small, but he supposes he must have been at some point. He also supposes that, given the man's size, when he was the same height as himself, he was more than likely an awful lot younger than he is now.

An awful lot younger, but able to dance like it was second nature. He's not sure how he feels about that, or at least that's what he tells himself, when in actual fact he _does_ know, just doesn't want to admit that he's jealous.

“Did she take you to Balls then?”

Az is silent next to him for a while, and Riel wonders if he said the wrong thing. Az never talked about his mother, any of his family for that matter. Maybe it was a sore spot for him, much like his own family.

But Az eventually says “I don't remember.” and he's quiet, sounding almost confused, and just a little sad. Riel reaches for his arm, finds his knee instead, but that works too, simply lets his hand rest there and say what he doesn't really have words for.

“I think that will do for our lesson today.” Az says as he gets to his feet, and Riel knows there's a hand offered to help him up. He reaches for it, doesn't find it, but Az's hand finds his and curls around, lifts him to his feet.

Riel isn't sure if he tripped, or if Az used too much of his strength, but he's up too fast and suddenly colliding with the man's chest. They don't fall, Az is far too heavy for his tiny frame to knock him over, and his reflexes are sharp enough that he catches him almost instantly.

But _something_ happens then, and he's not sure what. There's a burst of emotion from his friend, but it's too much at once for him to process. There's protectiveness and fondness for sure, there's also something that feels a little like apprehension, and why the man would be feeling that is utterly confusing, and there's this _warmth_ that Riel is used to feeling from him, but it's not exactly the same as normal, something _else_ in it that makes his heart skip a beat and he'd really like to know why it would react that way.

He turns his head up, even if he can't see him, Riel still likes to face him, and Az's breath hitches in his throat but that doesn't make sense either. He feels Az's hand brush some stray hair away from his face, and that's happened so many times, but this time it's _different._ Az's fingers shake just a little, and his touch is the most gentle he's ever felt it.

Then he's pulling away, taking much longer to do so than he usually does, and Riel's horribly confused because there's something telling him that he doesn't want him to put any distance between him, and why is _that?_

“I have a few errands to run.” Az is saying, and even his voice sounds different too. He wishes he knew what it was, can't pinpoint it at all because it doesn't sound all _that_ different, yet at the same time it really _is_ and once again he gets that creeping realisation that he's missing something. “Why don't you ask Mara to help you with your suit? I've made a few adjustments and it ought to be satisfactory now.”

 

XXXXX

 

When the Haven arrived at The Ball of Free Companies, Riel found himself to be a nervous wreck. There was music, and it was nice he supposed, but there was _people everywhere_ and he couldn't deal with the clamour of their voices or their emotions that bombarded his mind like one of the rare storms in Thanalan.

The storms in Thanalan would stop almost as fast as they came though.

He was clinging to Az's arm while the man spoke quietly with a lady who used just as many big words as he did, though he wasn't using so many with her. In fact, if he was reading his tone right, he sounded more like he wanted her to go away rather than keep talking.

“And of course, the great oaf picked up the wrong variety of silk! I could scarcely believe it, wouldn't have if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Utter travesty it was Ser Stormchaser. In any case, I-”

“A travesty for sure, my lady,” Az cut her off, and Riel half wondered how he was able to hear either of them, “Oh, but do my eyes deceive me? Is that not lady Coupaloix over yonder? What marvellous embroidery on her bodice.” he hears the woman gasp, just catches the _swish_ sound that her dress makes as she turns, he tries to hear what she says, but the moment she starts speaking, Az is at her ear and whispering “Quickly, while her attention is elsewhere.”

He blinks, about to question, but then Az is moving briskly through the hall, and Riel has to take two steps for every one of Az's. He's not sure where they're going, but the music and chatter is growing duller in his ears, and when they stop there's a pleasant breeze against his cheeks.

“Finally, thought we'd never be rid of her.” Az says with a chuckle in his voice and something that sounds like genuine relief. He can still hear the music faintly, and out here, wherever here is, it's unobstructed by the voices of all the guests, and it actually does sound rather pleasant.

He's not sure what expression was on his face that prompted Az to explain, but he does anyway. “One of the Hall's balconies. I didn't think it prudent to leave, but I thought you'd prefer to be outside.” there's a smile in his voice while he dislodges his arm from Riel's grip, his hand resting low on his back instead.

“Yeah, th-thanks.” he's not sure why he's stammering, he's not cold, and he's felt Az's hand on his back many times. He thinks it might have something to do with how Az stands in front of him and gently lifts his other hand with his free one, not wrapping around it, instead his open palm is only slightly curved while Riel's much smaller hand rests upon it.

“I wondered,” Az says, and his voice takes a tone of almost formality. It's something he's never heard him use with himself before, and there's still an undertone of familiarity, and something else that's mostly amusement, and just the slightest hint of... Hopefulness? “If you would honour me with a dance, Riel?”

He can't remember the last time Az actually used his name, or if he ever did. Now that he thinks about it, the only occasions he had were when he was introducing him to other people. Not once has Az actually addressed him by his name.

And that makes him feel something he doesn't have a name for.

He nods, not sure why he whispers when he says “Okay.” and the hand on his back encourages him closer, closer than they'd been during any of the lessons and it makes him feel just a little dizzy, then confused as to why he's dizzy.

Az keeps lifting his hand, guiding it to sit flat against his chest. He knows it should be on Az's shoulder, but the man is far too tall, he'd have to get on his tiptoes _and_ stretch up for that, and that would probably make dancing fairly awkward.

The man chuckles, closing his now free hand over Riel's and holding it as close to the proper position that he can with their height difference, “The correct response was 'I'd love to, Ser Stormchaser.'” but there's only warmth and amusement in his voice as he leads Riel into the first steps, a _waltz,_ he realises, and hopes he remembers how to do it properly.

He doesn't, but Az doesn't seem to mind, even catches him by surprise by turning him under his arm, and that has him stumbling. But Az catches him, laughs as if he's the happiest man in the world and rights him easily before sweeping him into the next steps.

He comes to realise that it doesn't matter if he gets it right or not, Az corrects every one of his mistakes by leading him into the next step, doesn't even mention them, and this is the most fun he's had for such a long time he forgets everything else. There could be hundreds of people watching them for all he cares. Right now, his world is the balcony and the breeze, the gentle music drifting up to them and Az's warm laughter while he twirls him again.

It ends sooner than he'd like, and he can feel Az dip into a bow in front of him, raising his hand and kissing the backs of his fingers like he heard all the princes and knights do in the stories. He thinks he should be embarrassed about being treated like one of the fair maidens, but instead he laughs and hugs his friend tight, can't quite get out the “Thanks Azzie” around his giggling, but his friend seems to understand anyway.

When they return home that evening, everyone shares their stories with excited voices loud in his ears and touches to his shoulder, and for the first time he doesn't flinch even the tiniest bit. And when he curls next to Az in his bed, he can still hear the music from the Ball, in his dreams he's still dancing with Az, and he thinks it's the best night's sleep he's ever had.

 


	7. The Storm Cometh

He's not exactly sure when everything changed, but what he _is_ certain of is that it all happened so gradually, that no one really noticed until it was far too obvious, and by then he was at a loss as to what he could do about it.

He thinks it started with the nightmares. Thankfully he still remembers how to calm Az down when he wakes up screaming, but during the two years he'd spent with him as a child, he only remembers it happening a handful of times. In the past four moons, however, they'd gotten so frequent that he'd have to comfort Az nearly every night.

Eventually Az forbade him from sleeping in his room. He protested, more for his friend's well being than his own. What if he had another one but he wasn't there to help? But Az had taken his hands and said softly “I will not have you lose yet more sleep because of me.”

The following morning marked the first occasion that Az didn't join them for breakfast, claiming fatigue and wishing to sleep a little longer. When Riel pressed his ear to Az's door though, he could hear shuffling papers and growls of frustration. He was certain Az wasn't sleeping at all.

Az only came to the breakfast table three times during the next four weeks, after that, he didn't join them again. Riel had to bring his meals to him, and no matter how many times he tried to get the man to talk, all he would say is “Worry not for me.” before ushering him out. On one occasion, he'd asked Riel to bring him a cloak with a hood, he questioned it of course, but Az wouldn't give him an answer.

Once, he heard Az return to the house while he sat in front of the fire, leapt up to greet him despite that he wasn't even aware that the man had even left. But Az brushed passed him, slammed the door to his room behind him without a word. When he stood outside the door, he could hear pottery smashing and Az's anguished cries of “ _WHY?”_

He'd gone to his friends, but they all spoke to him with sad voices and whispered “Sorry Riel, he won't speak to any of us either.”

It was five days later when he knocked on his friend's door to bring him his breakfast that he paused. He didn't sense his friend on the other side, so cautiously, he places his hand around the handle and lets himself inside. There was no protest, and he came to realise that once again, Az had slipped out with no one any the wiser. There's something sharp against his foot, a broken pot he thinks, and he feels something in the air that makes his gut clench and think _something's wrong_. But there's no way he can determine anything on his own. He dashes back into the main hall so fast he almost trips over his own feet, slamming the breakfast tray down onto the table where the rest of the Haven sit while he blurts out _“Azisgone!”_

He hears the scraping of the chairs on the floor, everyone on their feet almost instantly as he leads them to Az's room to search for clues. He's not much help here, but from D'emi's hushed whisper of “Oschon... What happened here...?” he knows no one is prepared for the sight that greets them.

He stands close to Zorai while the others search the room, she seems to pick up on the sense of _wrongness_ he felt earlier and softly explains what the others are looking at. There's broken shelves hanging askew on the walls, some plant pots shattered and others tipped over. There's also papers with handwriting similar to Az's which D'emi and Trau frown at while Dyolfen inspects a map covered in red string and more of Az's scribbled notes.

“He's gone hunting.” T'rau finally says, but he sounds _angry,_ “Hauled himself up north without a word. Bastard _knows_ that's against the Code!”

Riel knows the Code, or some of it anyway. Never hunt for simple glory. Always ensure someone knows where your group is headed. _Never hunt alone._ That must be why T'rau sounds so angry, thinks he should probably be angry too, but all he can think is _is he alright?_

“Are we going after him?” D'emi asks, like she already knows the answer. Riel's certain everyone in the room does, thinks he would go alone if he had to even though he doesn't know the way. He just hopes they find him in time.

 

XXXXX

 

It took hours to find Az, and Riel found that snow wasn't nearly as fun as he thought it would be, though that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he had to search for his friend in the middle of nowhere _again._

Thankfully he had help this time, can't imagine how long it would have taken without them. When they arrived, T'rau was immediately shouting, something about “Tackling dragons _alone?”_ and “The Code Stormchaser! The Code!” but he didn't hear much of it. He could feel Az nearby, his emotions a swirling mess of anger and fear, but there was something else about the man that had him frozen to the spot.

He felt... Broken.

They brought him home, Az was silent for the whole ride over. Riel kept his distance, he wanted nothing more than to go over to the man and hug him, tell him everything will be alright and that they'd get him a hot bath and a meal once they returned to the Hall. But he just couldn't approach. It was subtle, hard to detect under all the fear he felt from his friend, but underneath it all, something _seethed._

Something that wasn't Az.

But it was definitely coming from him, the man who walked at their side was definitely the man who took him in all those years ago, the man who fed and clothed him, the man who taught him to dance and tailored his suit, the man who helped him dress for the Ball, adjusted his collar and said warmly, “That looks good on you. You look very handsome Little One.”

So how could he feel like the man he knew so well, but also an utter stranger?

 

XXXXX

 

Az locked himself in his room again, barely said a word to anyone, Riel even had to leave his meals outside of his door rather than bringing them in.

It hurt. He wanted to talk to his friend, but at the same time, part of him preferred this arrangement. Part of him feared being near the man would make him feel the presence of whatever it was that _wasn't_ Az.

He'd felt it once more, when Az had come out of his room, informed the Haven that he wanted to hold a training session. He wouldn't explain why, all he said was “A storm is coming.”

That other presence was there again, and it felt like fire and wrath and just _not Az_ and he wished he knew what it all meant.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do at this “training session.” Riel had never picked up a weapon in his life, never felt the need to. But Az seemed to think he needed to now, had pleaded with him earlier before the session started and he begged to be excused from it, “Please Riel, now more than ever. I need you to know how to protect yourself.” and he couldn't feel the fire, instead an anxiousness that was _definitely_ Az this time, and he couldn't refuse.

Zorai had taught him some spells from the Arcane, but he hadn't mastered any by far, to be quite honest he hoped he never needed to. It wasn't his turn though, D'emi had just finished sparring with Cyb, and the pair already sounded exhausted. He thinks it was supposed to be his turn next, but Zorai was saying, “Azzie, you _promised_ another sword lesson for us.”

Riel knew that despite that Zorai had said “us,” she meant herself. He'd never heard of her using a sword before, and from the sound of it she'd had a few lessons already. Az sounded apprehensive when he answered “So I did.” like the last thing he wanted to do was spar despite that he was the one who called for training in the first place.

He held his ears perked up while he listened, could hear Zorai's blade singing through the air and clanging against Az's weapon. He knew the man favoured larger weapons, lances and greatswords, thinks he might have opted for a lance this time but he can't be certain. He hears Zorai's cries when Az's attacks hit their mark, the little grunts the man makes while he fends his opponent off.

But something... changes. Az's grunts start to sound more like _growls_ and Zorai's cries begin to sound like there's actual _pain_ there. He chews on his lip, senses the worry of those around him, thinks what they're seeing is bringing them to the same conclusion as himself.

“Az,” he hears T'rau call out, and he hears a hint of worry in his voice too, “I think it might be time to call it.”

But Az _laughs_ and he hears a _whoosh_ that he thinks might be a mighty swing of his lance, and it's followed by a yelp from Zorai. He hears a thud and thinks she hits the ground. Cyb and D'emi and Dyolfen, who were sitting at his sides begin to stand, but before they can say anything, he hears Zorai _scream_ and the others a running and _what's happening?_

He hears T'rau first, hears him yelling “Az stop!” but he's cut off with a cry of his own, followed by another from Dyolfen. He does his best to run to Az while he hears D'emi and Cyb calling out for Zorai. His arms find Az's waist, clings to it while he tries to piece together what's happening. Az's arms aren't at his sides, he frees one hand and finds one holding his lance, but the other...

He hears T'rau making choked noises above him, one of his feet kicks against his back, accidentally he thinks, and realises Az has the man by the throat.

“Worthless.” Az is saying, and it isn't his voice at all. He feels Az shift and hears a thump, throwing T'rau aside like a rag doll.

His world freezes around him, this is the first time he's had a hand on Az for what seems like forever, and the man even _feels_ different. His arm is thicker, and his hand doesn't reach as far up his chest as it used to. The man is somehow _bigger_ and he curses himself for not realising sooner, wonders if the others had noticed.

He doesn't have much longer to think about it, there's a hand in his hair, and the fingernails are _sharp_ and he can't ponder that either as a second later the hand twists into a fist, gripping and pulling at his hair painfully and forcing him away while turning his head up.

“I ought to let him wake for a moment when I run you through.” Az, no... Riel doesn't know who this is. He sounds like Az, but there's no coffee or honey even though he still smells like rolanberry and cotton grass, “Just a moment. I bet he'd scream so sweetly.”

He struggles, reaches up and grabs at Az's wrist, and it's definitely Az's wrist but he feels scales there now. He wants to run his fingers over it, get Az to explain all this to him, but this man isn't Az and all his brain is telling him is “ _Get away get away.”_

He pulls at that wrist, trying his best to dislodge Az's hand but he's just not strong enough. “Azzie,” he cries through gritted teeth, it hurts so much, Az has never hurt him, “Azzie stop! The storm, you said-”

Az laughs at him, and it sounds like fire and razor blades, yanks his head back while he leans down, close enough that Riel can feel his breath on his lips. “Storm, Little One?” he answers, and the sound of his nickname makes him shiver, makes him want to turn and run because it sounds _wrong_ on the man's lips now, “I _am_ the storm.” he whispers it, like it's a special secret and it's that voice Az used to use when he'd tell his stories and the heroes found something amazing, but now it makes his spine turn to ice and his skin feel like there's a thousand tiny insects crawling just under the surface.

And then he's falling. Az lets him go and he crumples. He hears the clanking of armour as he walks away from them, Az's voice drifting back to him as he proudly proclaims “I too, shall join the chorus.” he hears the others calling after him, but never there's no answer, just Zorai's pained whimpers as the others gather themselves and run to her side.

He can't process it. He's numb while T'rau helps him inside, barely listens while he says “We'll find him, we've found him before and we'll do it again. We'll get him back.” but all he hears in his ears is Az calling him “Little One” in the voice that's his and not his at all, hears it echo over and over until all he can do is curl up in a corner of his room and pray this was all a bad dream.

When he wakes the next morning, Az is still gone, Zorai is still hurt and everyone is silent around the breakfast table, and Riel begins to wonder how much of Az will be left when they eventually do find him.

 


	8. The Journal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of attempted suicide.

It takes two moons for Zorai to recover from her injury. T'rau explained it to him, and he hadn't wanted to believe it, didn't want to believe that Az was capable of it, but he'd been there and heard her screams, heard Az's voice sound so very different but chillingly familiar. He'd driven his spear cleanly through her shoulder, though T'rau had said she was lucky, if Az had aimed just a little further to the left, she might have never recovered the use of her arm.

Riel pondered that. The thought of the man Az had become chilled him to the bone. He'd felt it himself, there was no love or warmth in him, just anger and a bloodlust that terrified him. A man that felt like that, combined with the skill he knew Az owned, would not have missed, especially not when his target was so helpless from shock.

So... Why _did_ he miss? Did that mean Az was still in there? Was he fighting against whatever had taken hold of him? He remember what Az had said to him, _“ I ought to let him wake for a moment.”_ Was he talking about Az? If so then... Who was the one who was speaking?

He'd tried talking to T'rau about it, the man had said any information was good information at this point. He wasn't so sure though, he had no way to prove it, just a gut feeling. But T'rau had hummed thoughtfully as he said it, “You're right Riel, it _is_ just and idea, we have no way of knowing if that's the case.” he'd paused then, Riel imagined he was rubbing at his chin, “But even just an idea, it does have merit. But we can't count it as fact yet.” he heard T'rau sigh just as his shoulders slumped, but didn't flinch when he felt a hand on one of them, “I really hope you're right though kid. For his sake, and yours.”

Riel frowned, tipping his face up in T'rau's direction, “You mean everyone's, right?”

“Of course, everyone's.” T'rau answered, giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze before letting go. He felt something from the other man then that he couldn't put a name to. It felt something like sympathy, but that's not quite it. Once again he has the impression that T'rau knew something that he didn't, but felt like he should, especially when he started walking away and said “But mostly yours.”

He took to sleeping in Az's room again, trying to find some semblance of the man he knew. He even tried tidying up, his friend would like a tidy room when they get him back. _If they get him back_ his brain supplies unhelpfully. But it's a bit of a struggle, he knows where almost everything goes, but with how a lot of things are broken he's not sure where to put them. After the third day of trying with little success, he eventually complains about it to the others over breakfast.

“Oh Riel.” D'emi says, reaching over and ruffling his hair, and he wonders what it about his hair that makes _everyone_ do that. Even Zorai does it sometimes, and she's only just a little bit taller than him, “You should have said something! I'd have helped you!”

“We would like to help too.” Zorai chimes in. She's trying to be cheerful, she wants their friend back just as much as anyone, but he understands the apprehension he feels from her that she so desperately tries to stamp down. She adores Az, they all do, but he hurt her, and even though the physical wound has mostly healed now, he knows the mental one will take much, _much_ longer.

He wonders if one day he can be as brave as Zorai is.

After breakfast, the trio make their way to Az's room. D'emi comments on how he's done a pretty good job, all things considered, and she especially likes the addition of the plush chocobo he brought from his own room to replace one of the broken vases. He gives her a weak smile and nods his thanks before setting about finding something that needs tidied or fixed.

The girls are shuffling about in Az's closet when he finds the ring, turns it over in his hands. He remembers this ring well, Az always used to wear it. He'd asked him about it once, but the man had no recollection where he'd picked it up, said that he more than likely just found it lying around in the street. Riel thought that he sounded unsure though.

He doesn't get much chance to inspect it though, he knew there was letters carved on the inside, but he didn't know what they said, and he'd never asked Az about it either. He considered handing it over to D'emi but she was already saying “Hey, is this Azzie's journal?” in an almost excited voice. He pockets the ring, thinks that the journal is far more important.

“Do you think he wrote anything about when he wouldn't talk to us?” Zorai asks, and as much as he doesn't like the idea of prying into their friend's private journal, she has a very good point. D'emi agrees too, heads over to the sofa and he follows, takes the seat to one side of her while Zorai takes the other.

She has to read it aloud, he can't see it, and Zorai never learned to read. “If this journal has fallen into your hands,” she begins as she turns over the front cover, “It means I am dead, or worse. Should it be the latter, my only wish is that you do what you must, or if you find you cannot, that you will find someone who can. Just know that there are no words that can express the apology that I have no right to give. I'm sorry.” She pauses before turning the page, whispers, “What happened Azzie...?”

She continues reading, at the point where Az had written about meeting her for the first time and reuniting with Zorai she pauses to chuckle, “He even wrote about the fish we made him eat.” she says fondly and Zorai giggles. He doesn't know that story, takes a mental note to ask them about it another time.

Throughout the journal, Az keeps mentioning “ _Him._ ” Someone who talks to him, mocks him about his insecurities, someone who keeps telling him to stop running. He also mentions how there's things he just can't remember but thinks he should, that there's holes in his memory that he can't fill no matter what he tries.

He writes about his nightmares, about a man who stands in the middle of a ring of fire. He's tall and covered in patches of black scales, claws at the end of his fingers and curved horns at either side of his head and a long tail with a serrated fan on the end, fangs that glint in the fire-light. He writes about how the man-beast has his face.

“That's what he looked like...” D'emi whispers, “On the training day, when he hurt Zorai, his hood fell off and... that's how he looked.”

Riel takes a deep breath, trying to process it all. Az's nightmares, the creature he saw... Was he seeing what he would later become? But D'emi is still reading, he can think about all that later.

D'emi is reading about something she and Zorai remember, but he doesn't, about how a woman named X'aros had injured him, shattered his knee. “You hadn't joined us at the time. X'aros left shortly after.” D'emi explains to him as she turns the page, but as she continues reading, she starts to sound angry, “I got out of bed today.” she reads, “It didn't occur to me until later that I should not have been able to do that. Yet my knee has healed as though it were never injured. How is this possible? There's a patch of hardened skin where I believe there ought to be a scar.” she carries on, reading how he didn't want anyone asking questions that he didn't have answers for, acting as though his leg was still injured for months.

“That son of a bitch!” D'emi cries, “I helped him _so much_ and he was _completely fine?”_

“'Emi,” Zorai interjects, “We think Azzie was scared, he didn't know why he healed so fast.”

“Yeah! But that doesn't mean-”

“Um,” Riel interrupts, “We should see if there's more, maybe? We still don't know what's happened.”

D'emi seems to deflate at his side, like she wanted to complain some more, but knew this wasn't the time for it, “I'll just... Punch him when he gets back.” she says, though Riel doesn't miss the lack of conviction in her voice when she talks of Az coming home.

As the journal goes on, D'emi pauses frequently, explaining that there's lots of crossed out words, other times the handwriting gets messy, like he wrote it in a hurry or in a shaking hand. He writes about more patches of hard skin appearing on his body, how it starts to darken and feel more like scales. He writes about how one morning he's styling his hair and his comb snags on something, discovers the horns growing out of the sides of his head. He writes about how his pants are too short for him now that he's grown even taller, and his feet hurt as they notice they change shape.

He writes about how he hears a song that no one else does, that when he hears it, _He_ stops speaking. He writes about how he once asked _Him_ about it once and that he learned that _He_ was listening to it too. He writes about how _He_ said “We too shall join the chorus.”

“That's what Az said,” he whispers, “When he left, he said _'I rise to join the chorus.'_ Does that... mean something?”

He feels D'emi shake her head next to him, “It must mean something, if it's written here as well...” she says as she turns the page, “We'll look into it when we're done here.”

He writes about finding his old ring in his room, having misplaced it and forgotten about it, Riel pulls it out of his pocket and hands it over. Az writes about it a lot, how the letters on it say “Estienne.” He writes about how he tries to research the name, how it leads back to a family who were all executed for heresy in Ishgard almost a thousand years ago near the beginning of the Dragonsong War. He also writes about how the scales are spreading while the horns grow, and even growing a tail. He calls himself a monster.

He writes about the time when he disappeared without anyone knowing. Riel guesses it was the time when he came home while he sat in front of the fire and didn't even get to greet him before he slammed his door. The following entry has D'emi choking an her breath and struggling to get the words out.

“H-he... He was scared of what was happening... He- Oh Azzie, why didn't you _talk_ to us?”

“What does it say?” both he and Zorai ask at the same time, and nothing could have prepared him for the answer.

“He... He tried to kill himself.” D'emi explains, sounding like there's tears in her voice, “He threw himself off the Witchdrop and lived. On the next page he's... Very angry about it.”

She doesn't read the words, and he's glad for it. He doesn't want to hear Az's words and have it be real.

D'emi continues to read to them, and the journal's tone turns much darker. Az writes about how his nightmares get worse, how instead of just seeing himself become a monster, he sees his friends beaten and broken around him. He writes about how he wakes up laughing instead of screaming. He writes about how he has urges to snap the necks of those around him.

He writes about how he's so exhausted from fighting _Him_ and the thoughts _He_ makes him have. He writes about how he plans the training day, how he wants everyone to be ready for the day when he can't fight it any more.

But mostly, he writes “I'm sorry.”

They all come to the same conclusion, whoever attacked them that day was _Him._ The question was, who exactly was _He?_

They take the book and the ring to T'rau, who nods and hums and occasionally makes concerned sounds as they tell him their findings. After a long moment of consideration, he finally speaks “Leave it with me, I have a contact who might be able to find something about 'Estienne.'”

 

XXXXX

 

True to his word, T'rau's contact does find the information he set out to find, a lock-box made of mythril, inscribed with the name “Estienne” and sealed with an old enchantment that Izzy managed to dispel with considerable effort. Whoever sealed it never wanted it opened.

T'rau finds what he says looks like an old report, reads it out to them and leaves them all short for breath.

It's dated close to a thousand years ago, only a a few decades after the Dragonsong War began. It tells of a man named Veltenoix Estienne and his experiments into finding and tapping into the source of a dragon's power. Jealous of his brother Vogarth's fame, he'd hoped finding such strength would not only empower him, but also frame his brother with heresy. He collected materials from the same Dragon his brother had killed, one named Stevrasha, feared for her command over lightning and her gargantuan wings that sounded like a thunderclap on every beat.

He went so far as to experiment on his youngest nephew, Riel nearly threw up his lunch upon hearing it, how the man even went so far as to gouge out the little boy's eye and replace it with that of the Stevrasha's.

At the bottom of the document, Veltenoix had listed all the materials used, from ground up horn to Stevrasha's blood. He wrote the location of the Dragon's corpse, hidden so no other may use it. He listed the name of his test subject.

Azranahr Estienne, youngest son of Vogarth “Stormchaser” Estienne.

 


	9. Dragonsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write combat please be gentle.

T'rau theorises that Az must be headed for Stevrasha's corpse. If a dragon's power is contained within it's eyes, and he already has one, then it stands to reason that _He_ would want the other. No one faults him his logic, they have no other leads to follow, and without a word everyone is rushing to don their armour and weapons.

Riel doesn't have armour, nor a weapon, just a few spells that probably wouldn't do much good, but he readies himself either way. He finds the warmest yet least restrictive clothing he has, which isn't much thicker than his usual shirt and pants, but it's better than nothing.

D'emi questions him on his decision to join them. He's never joined them on a hunt before, but he needs to do this, needs to bring his friend home just like everyone else does.

“But what if you get hurt?” D'emi asks, her voice full of concern, “How will Azzie feel when we get him back and he finds he's hurt you?” he notices she doesn't say “if” even though he knows that's what everyone is thinking.

It's T'rau who answers for him, “Riel might be the only one who can get through to him now.” he doesn't sound happy about it, like he'd much rather someone with no combat experience stay behind too. It also makes Riel worry just how little of their friend is left that such a thing would be the case. “Is everyone ready?”

No one says a word. He feels shifts in the air, thinks everyone is nodding, but no one says it. All of them know what they're heading into, that saving Az might not even be possible. And if that's the case, like the man himself had written in his journal should such a thing come to pass, if he cannot be saved, they'd have to put Azranahr down.

No one is prepared to say they're ready for that.

 

XXXXX

 

Riel could feel him before the others saw him, though he didn't think that was all that great of a feat, the snow was coming down hard, and the wind was so strong that he imagined it would take a great effort for anyone to see _anything._ But when he did sense him, it almost bowled him over. His presence felt like a mountain, like it could crush the breath from his lungs and snap his bones like twigs.

From the sound Zorai makes, he thinks she feels it too.

He only just hears T'rau shout “Over there!” over the gale, and D'emi takes his hand. He's not sure if she's leading him, offering comfort, or trying to gain some for herself. He thinks it might be a little of all three.

When they stop, the wind mercifully dies down, and he senses Az standing before him like a fire raging through a forest, all consuming and a force he can't possibly contend with.

“And so cometh the sheep.” his tone is light, almost like a song, but underneath it's heavy with steel and determination, “Foolhardy sheep who brave the storm only to be broken by it. Do tell me, what is it thou hopes to achieve?”

He's heard Az speak formally before, but it's nothing like this. This is the drawing of a blade and holding it at their throats. This is a challenge, and one that the man is confident that he'll emerge victorious from.

He's not ready for this.

“Give him back!” Zorai screams at him, and he marvels at how she is even managing to find words. He wanted to say the same thing, grip Az by the shirt and shake him and yell _just come home!_ But he can barely breathe, let alone say anything. He wishes he had even half of her strength.

But Az only laughs, the one that's both his and not his at all. It's almost drowned out by the thunder that rolls overhead at the same time, deafening in it's proximity, it's a wonder any of them heard the man at all.

“I shall not be kept from what is mine.” It's still Az's voice, but there's a growl in it that's entirely that of a beast, like he imagines something as big as behemoth would make, wild and powerful and _dangerous_ , “Thou art welcome to to try, t'would be amusing to watch you all break in thy meaningless effort. A blissful display of wilful ignorance.”

There's a shift in the air, and if it wasn't so different from anything he'd ever felt before, he'd have put it down to the thunder clapping again. But after it dies to a quiet rumble, something _roars._ Az told him stories of Dragons, as had the other members of the Haven. He knew they lived in the northern lands, and he imagines that roar was exactly what a Dragon sounds like, gargantuan and unstoppable.

Only this roar came exactly from where he knew Az stood.

The moment it ends, D'emi collides with him, must have leapt at his side and they land together a good distance from where he was standing. A moment later the ground shakes as something _huge_ slams down on the space he'd previously occupied.

T'rau is shouting instructions, but his ears are ringing and he can't hear them. D'emi is pulling him up and he can feel the crackle in the air from Zorai's spells. He thinks one must have hit it's mark when the beast – Dragon, he hears the wingbeats and _Twelve help them how is he supposed to fight a Dragon –_ roars in pain, deafens him again just as his hearing was starting to return.

D'emi guides him away, instructs him to keep his distance when he can finally hear again. He makes out the sound of her bow twanging, the distinct _whoosh_ as T'rau leaps into the air with his spear, the bursting sound as Zorai rains her spells upon their foe. And he... Does nothing. Doesn't know what he can do except try to figure out where the Dragon _isn't_ so he can move there and not get in everyone's way.

But he wants to do _something._ He's a member of the Haven, and they all have their roles to play. He is Just-Riel, and he can be as brave as any of them. He doesn't know how to fight, he doesn't know how to wield a bow or a sword or a spear. He can't weave spells out of thin air and he most certainly can't face off against a Dragon.

So he focuses on what he knows. He knows he can pick out sounds from the air better than anyone, he knows he can feel vibrations in the ground and know how people are moving just as well as he can see them. He knows he can feel what's in someone's heart as if he was experiencing it himself.

He hears T'rau cry out in pain, followed by D'emi after a mighty _whoosh_ that he realises must have been a swipe of the Dragon's enormous tail. He hears it roar again as another of Zorai's spells connects, listens to her scream and run after T'rau. He listens to it all and the wind howling around them and the thunder splitting the air above them.

Underneath it all, so faint he's not sure how he heard it, he hears a voice cry out _“Help me!”_

_Az._

He's running before he knows it, still hears the others as the battle rages around him but he tunes it out, concentrates as hard as he can because _Az is still there_ and he _needs him._ He's not sure where the surge of bravery comes from, but he refuses to question it now as he leaps up and latches onto the Dragon's scales. It's hard to climb while it swipes at the others, and his skin prickles when he feels lightning close by, from the storm or the Dragon itself he isn't entirely sure of, but he thinks it might be the latter.

He finds his way up the Dragon's back, between it's wings and to the base of it's neck, nearly falls off when it whips it's massive head around and tries to dislodge him. “Fight it Az!” and he barely hears himself over the storm and the clamour of the battle. “You have to! You have to come home!”

The Dragon roars again, as if it's in an immense amount of pain, so much so that it swings it's neck violently, even tipping back onto it's hind legs and kicking the air with it's front pair. Riel has to grip so tightly to it's scales that he thinks the skin on his palms breaks even through his gloves. He didn't hear anything from the others though, there was no crash from T'rau's spear nor an explosion from one of Zorai's spells. He didn't hear one of D'emi's arrows burrow into it's scales so... What hit it?

The force of the Dragon's legs colliding with the ground rocks him so heavily that he _does_ fall this time, but he manages to catch hold again at the top of it's leg, hauls himself up again and gritting his teeth with the effort. He gets up just in time as that leg rears up, it's body coiling with the force it put into the swipe he prays whoever it's aimed for manages to get away from.

But he's forced to grip tight again as the movement comes to a halt so sudden it's like the claws connected with a brick wall. The Dragon snarls and it's foreleg tenses like it's pushing against something. There's words bitten out in a language that he can't understand, but even he can tell just how full of fury they are, like it can't swipe at one of it's assailants as if some force was holding it's limb in place.

He felt it then, warm and familiar and _determined._ Az was holding it back, Az made the Dragon turn it's head and fire off a lightning bolt away from it's target, Az made it's lower body twist so it's tail slammed down on empty ground.

The beast howled with outrage, writhing as pain from both the Haven's blows and the inner battle it waged with the one whom _He_ had taken over from. Riel began his careful climb down, having to pause and grip tightly lest he be thrown off. When he reached the top of it's leg, the Dragon twisted so violently in it's agony that he fell. He had a second to realise that it's massive foot was following him down before rolling away.

He had to clamp his hands over his ears, the Dragon's pained howls so loud now that even the ground shook. He ground his teeth together and even cried out as his eardrums threatened to burst. If it went on for much longer he was certain they would have.

It ended abruptly. So quickly that he thought it left him deaf for a moment with how silent and still the world around him was when a second earlier it felt like the Calamity all over again. Even the wind had stilled and he couldn't feel the snow falling on his cheeks.

When he did finally hear something, it was a muffled _thud_ and a breath so quiet had there been any wind at all it would have been carried away. But he knew that breath better than his own, and he was on his feet and running so fast that he might have slipped were he not so determined.

He managed to catch Az by his shoulders just before they hit the ground, sliding onto his knees and holding him up as best as someone his size could hold up a giant like Az. The man was so quiet and still for a minute Riel feared the worst. But shaking hands found his sides, and a whispered “Thank you.” was all he needed before he was gripping the man as tightly as he could, laughing and crying all at once.

The others found their way to them, kneeling with them in the snow. He felt one of T'rau's hands on his shoulder, thinks the other might be on Az's while Zorai curls exhaustedly at his side, leaning on both him and Az. D'emi stands nearby and her hand finds the top of his head, her body tilted towards their friend, thinks her other hand is in his hair too.

It speaks volumes for how exhausted Az is that he doesn't even have the weakest of comments about not touching his hair.

“Thought we lost you for a while big guy.” T'rau says, and he sounds just as weary, and if Riel is hearing right, a little choked up? He can't say for certain though, for all the time he's known T'rau, he's learned that the man is very good at hiding it when he gets emotional.

“So did I...” Az whispers, and he _definitely_ chokes on his words, buries his head into the gap between Riel's shoulder and Zorai's hair, “I didn't... I couldn't...” and it's the strangest thing, to hear Az so _unsure_ of himself. One of his hands finds the side of Az's face, wipes away tears that aren't there because Az won't let himself cry, not here in front of so many people.

“We know.” D'emi says. He feels her shift, thinks she might be threading her fingers through Az's hair, is pretty certain of it when Az makes a broken little sound in his throat that makes him hold on all the harder. “We're here. We're always here, you just need to start telling us what you need.”

Az nods once, carefully, like he's afraid if he moves too fast everyone will shatter around him, “I'd like,” he begins, pauses to take a shaky breath. Riel knows what that's like, when you desperately want to ask for something but it's too frightening to do so, tries to encourage him be holding on a little tighter. “I'd like to come home.”

T'rau is the first one to try and help them to their feet, but D'emi has to get around the other side and help to as T'rau grits out admonishingly, “Geez Az, don't ever need me to help you up again, you're damned heavy.” but there's warmth in his voice, warmth all around him from everyone. He wants to help Az too, but T'rau and D'emi are much stronger than he is, and he's a bit short to be of much help, but he stays close regardless and encourages Zorai to lean on him.

“When we get home,” Riel starts as they all take the first few steps, “We'll get a warm meal in you and a bath, And somewhere nice to sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of what I had pre-written before receiving my AO3 invite. Updates will be slower from here on out.


End file.
